Star Gazing
by List Locked Lover
Summary: Leo Baskerville recently found himself spending every minute of every day he could manage in small, barely known music store. A reason? Just to see that one employee's content smile each day. Stalker? Just maybe. ElliotxLeo, modern AU.
1. Prologue

**On a walk with my sister, we were trying to come up with plots for Pandora Hearts fanfics. This here is the result of which, inspired by Sekaiichi Hatsukoi Kisa Shouta no Baai. I'm not too sure how long this will end up being, but I've got a steady plan of plot so it won't get too out of control like some have...either way!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts or any of the characters~**

**Enjoy!**

_Prologue_

Leo wasn't sure when his interest became infatuation.

Had it been…July? June? May, when he noticed? Sometime in the summer had he only realized what he had brought himself into becoming a routine each day, and a few months after that epiphany did he gain another on what he really had become during this large period of time he spent away from his home.

A stalker.

Yes, a stalker, the word that rolled off his tongue with a slur and left behind a terrible taste in his mouth. The mere word alone made his eye twitch, a new shade of red an artist would be proud of overcoming his entire body, the room changing from 70 Fahrenheit to 70 Celsius easily. As horribly frightening as the word sounded, it was the only thing Leo Baskerville could think of for what he had become; a stalker.

_A stalker._

When most heard that dreadful noun, the popular belief of what a stalker is was a creepy man or woman who sat outside someone's house and looked through their windows, followed them everywhere, took notes of what they did, etc. Adjusting his large rimmed glasses higher onto the bridge of his nose, Leo begged to differ; a stalker was, by definition, a person who pursues game, prey, or a person stealthily. He would know. He had looked it up in every dictionary and online website there was to behold. Now, while this definition didn't pin him down exactly, it was a rather exaggerated thought of what he was indeed doing.

Pursuing stealthily.

But was he really pursuing him? He wouldn't really say that…he was merely intrigued! It was…something about him…something that kept Leo returning to that music store on the corner of the fifth block from his work. A small, belittled store hidden from the rest of the city, worn down and looking as if it had been pulled right from the 1800's on the outside appearance. On the inside, however, it appeared much different; racks filled to the brim with CD's and records, instruments lining the walls, and a doorway in the back leading to a staff room where more stock was kept. Design wise, wood seemed to have been plentiful when it had been built; glossy cherry floorboards that the black haired man could always catch his reflection in when he averted his eyes to keep from being found, and deep, mahogany walls that matched the single door in the front of the shop.

Two display cases were set outside on either side of the entrance, both backed by a wall as to be unable to look inside the store itself. In the first case to the left of the door, two guitars were set up along with a flute laying on the red, satin cloth between them, a violin against the wall, and a trumpet peeking out from behind the second guitar. In the other case, multiple CD's were strewn about , some propped up to see the covers while others were completely flipped over. A small wire stand was set up to display eight records, all fanning out of the wires so only a sliver of each could be seen.

A few feet above the door, _Partager une Mélodie _was written in silver metal atop a black bar, lights hidden in front of it to shine on the logo.

The Baskerville could delve into even more detail, if asked. He could name every CD on every rack, where every scratch was in the floor, etc. He knew what worker swept the floor last night by the condition next morning, easily able to tell the differences between a horizontal lazy sweep to someone who mopped in circular motions quite thoroughly, leaving a healthy glisten on the floor. He was aware of every instrument they had in stock, every album, every worker, everything. He could tell you which employee stepped into the building first that morning by the temperature, knowing the habits of each one.

Leo knew it all, knew every detail of that tiny store. Every pattern of wood in the floors and walls, every crack, every crevice, and any other detail he could think of. It wasn't as if he studied the shop day and night, no, what a boring thing to do for someone of his intelligence! He noticed things. He was simply there, lurking among the racks of discs that raised a foot higher than his own height. Peeking through music, looking at that one reason he even visited the unknown music abode.

One reason. One man.

A blonde male—a male, of all things!—that was rarely behind the counter, always up and about the store, ordering everything neatly in place. Sometimes he would simply pull out a chair and sit by the main desk, polishing and cleaning every speck of dust from each instrument that wasn't already spotless.

And he smiled.

There were scarce days that went by when he didn't have a gentle, mellow, kind smile on his face as he worked with those music making pieces of art. But he wasn't always smiling, no, of course not, only when he was completely at peace and in his own corner of the world. His co-workers did well to rarely bother him, only doing so when needed or for a rare annoyance to which he would burst out in a fit of rage.

He intrigued Leo, that was for sure. Something about him, the aura around him had Leo returning to that store each and every day—besides Sunday, when it was closed. It had become part of his schedule, a daily routine, an unspoken ritual that he rarely questioned. Simply seeing such a serene man so peaceful and content with life made Leo content, something he could no longer go a day without. It had become a physical dependence, needing to see that man everyday whenever he could.

Earlier on in his stalking adventures, Leo had attempted to not visit the store for a day. He was only able to roll around in his bed, wondering what he was doing, if he was there, if he was still shining that bright smile he wore so well… He always broke down. Never could he do it, not once could he leave for good, always coming back for more, coming back to gaze at those soft eyes downcast on whatever piece was in the blonde man's hands.

Even on those Sundays when he had thought himself to be doomed did he find a loophole, a loophole being the same man sitting on a park bench every first day of the week for an hour. Leo was nearly overjoyed when he stumbled upon him once again, now able to bring a book with him and sit down across the expanse of land, looking over his shoulder occasionally to try and catch one of those miracle making grins of his.

Life was hard and always putting Leo in even harsher times than before, his spirits constantly low. Yet, with this dirty little secret of his, he could find a meaning for life. To see that smile was to see the simple good in the world, to believe in the dawn of a bright tomorrow, to look forward to seeing it again the next day. For that reason and for that reason alone did Leo wake up each morning, driving through the long days only to wind back up in that tiny corner shop that was the sanctuary for his peace of mind.

For one reason, for one man, for one smile…

A simple pleasure couldn't be called something as disgusting as "stalking," Leo decided. For now…for now, until something better could surface in his mind, was he gazing at the stars, counting them one by one as they lit up his dull and seemingly meaningless life. Star gazing…that's what it was, all that it was, a hobby, a routine, a something he couldn't go on without. After all, who ever said that people were stalkers for constantly watching stars all night? Stars were beyond humans, beyond the hateful term of stalking, a beauty in itself.

Wasn't it easy to believe that that man hidden away in _Partager une Mélodie_ was one of those stars as well?

Until the day Leo could find a new meaning to life, until he could create happiness by himself for himself, would he continue watching stars. If this was life, if this was happiness, then maybe he should simply go into astronomy and try to decode the mystery behind that glistening smile he had come to love.


	2. Beauty and the Beast

_As I expected_, Leo's thoughts rung out, causing a shudder to run through his body. _I couldn't stop myself after all…_

His hands shook, fingers clamped tightly around the thin bars of the rack next to him as he peered around it, back hunched over and neck craning almost unnaturally just to see what lay beyond the other side. _He_ was here, sure enough, filling the Baskerville's chest with a strange warmness and his stomach with a bit of paranoia of being found out; the usual reaction to his frequent visits. It wasn't as if Leo could help it, it wasn't even his fault! No, of course not, it was that man's fault! That damned employee who worked every weekday, every Saturday, extreme hours, and smiling so happily while he did so!

There was no way Leo could be at fault when challenged with…that!

He pursed his lips, licking them nervously as his mouth had gone completely dry from having been agape so long. He seemed pretty concentrated on the violin in his hands, polishing it with utmost care and gentleness. Fingertips hidden beneath the cloth he held, the blonde just barely brushed over the smooth surface of the wood, glossing it to an even more magnificent degree. His other hand was completely concealed by a white rag, holding up the instrument in the palm of his hand as he worked away on perfection, clearly able to see his near flawless face in its shining reflection. His pale lips slightly parted, Leo could just barely see the shaded pink of his tongue hidden beneath the two slim pillows of flesh, closing every now and then only to be reopened once he was fully absorbed in his task.

As he always was, the male was seated in a plain, wooden stool without any back, just a simple disk of wood with three diagonal pegs from the bottom. He rarely ever changed his method of seating, always using the same chair in the same spot, so often that there were even three microscopic dents in the floor where his stool was always placed. It was tall enough for him to have the tiniest bit of difficulty straddling up on, but he did so with what Leo may even stretch to call elegance each and every day, feet resting between the legs of the chair in a neutral position.

His eyes remained half lidded, downcast on whatever piece he was praising in his hands, his fingers working like a seamstress's when put to the task. Quick and nimble, able to accomplish an amazing pizzicato while arranging his own quick staccato on a piano. Leo always enjoyed the latter of which most, being a pianist himself and being able to relate to each note that was played. With this, he felt even the slightest bit closer to the man with the Mona Lisa smile. It was almost as if a story was told along every piece he played, screaming out to Leo and Leo alone. Foolish as it was, Leo could almost believe he played the piano just for him, played as a means of unspoken communication between them. For every word remaining unspoken, a high D on the piano would do just as well.

But he knew he was mad. Strange feelings and thoughts like these were unnecessary, foolish and useless. What would he amount to if he were to keep on thinking such idle, dreamy ponders? It would take him no where, to have thoughts alone, and to never act upon them. However…it wasn't as if he could just…approach him so casually. No, of course not, happiness did not come easily for this shaggy haired intelligent. What did he even have on his side? Nothing, that's what.

Leo was anything but attractive. He had grown out his black hair to almost reach his waist, yet failed to take care of it as it became a ragged, matted mess. His skin brought a new meaning to the word "pale" with its unearthly shade of white, showing every bruise or mark displayed quite vividly like painting on a pure white canvas. He wasn't even all that tall, average height for a man his age, yes, but not _tall_ like he so desperately desired. He wasn't well built, rather scrawny, actually, and was what some may call "manorexic," as embarrassing as the term was. Loose, baggy clothing always hung over his figure, concealing the ribs you could see clear as day if he wore anything relatively normal, or the small waist that was unnaturally thin. So what if he didn't eat? He was a student with a small budget, it was to be expected.

His astronomic point of interest, however, seemed to be just the opposite of him. His hair was more of a dusted blonde, as if someone had lightly painted one layer of yellow overtop dark brown and a soft, dirty color came out as profit. Contrary to how it was described, Leo found the shade rather charming on the prince, blending nicely with his barely tanned skin; not pale, but not a real tan. He didn't spend much time out in the sun anyways—Leo would know. A tiny beauty mark rested to the bottom left of his left eye, almost as if punctuating a clear sentence made up of two, gray-blue gems overtop white pearls. He was taller than Leo, of course, by at least a few inches, earning the height the college student yearned for and working it quite well with a toned body Leo had only few chances to see. It wasn't as if Leo had seen him naked before—Lord forbid such an embarrassing stumble! It was simply that on some hot Sunday afternoons he would wear lighter clothing, figure then easy to define with just a once over.

Prince and the Rat.

Beauty and the Beast.

Anyway it was put, Leo himself was a sight that made most cringe and back away upon seeing, while that employee was the sky that so many approached with hopes of being shone on by a sunny smile.

"Speak of the devils…" Leo muttered quietly, no one even relatively close enough to hear his whisper. As if on cue, a group of three women then entered the store, looking just about Leo's own age with bright grins plastered on their faces. They chattered back and forth loudly, disturbing the peaceful quiet of the tiny store Leo had come to adore. Shrill voices laughing much louder than necessary, three synchronized gasps rang out as they approached the counter, quickly rushing forward to huddle around the musician at work.

"Elliot!" One cried happily, standing close enough to touch her legs against his knees. "You're here again today!"

"I have to," the prince spat out bluntly, smile disappearing and being replaced with a scowl. "It's my job, after all."

Leo knew these girls all too well. Their names were unimportant, irrelevant white dwarfs that got in the way of seeing Leo's most brilliant constellation, NPC's to the game, backgrounds fillers in a fairytale. He had heard their names being squealed back and forth by each other before, but always referred to them as simply Slut, Ho, and Bitch; fitting names for each one, actually.

A day never went by Leo's heart didn't swell upon seeing their inevitable rejection from the Greek-god-equivalent at the counter, always feeling a bit higher above them than he knew he should. In truth, he was still below them, never having spoken a word to him before besides when buying a CD and he was working the register. Even then, it was during those moments the Baskerville could feel a bit closer to him, having earned a small, joyful smile from the man whenever he checked out. Sure, he smiled to most every customer—besides a few that got on his nerves—but wasn't he able to pretend? Couldn't he even dream of a day he could speak to him, to be accepted and actually looked at, to have that smile he used when handling instruments to be directed at him?

The grip he held on the CD stand loosened as he lowered his head, feeling discouraged by his own thoughts. He knew that no matter how long he visited, no matter how much he prayed, and no matter how many pep talks he gave himself, Leo would never be given as much as a chance. The man had already been challenged with gorgeous women right and left, turning each one of them down without a second thought. If even those who had the head start with beauty were rejected, what chance did rag-doll Leo Baskerville stand? None, that was all, no argument to be put to it.

"Hey, Elli," Slut purred in what turned out to be a very seductive voice, placing her hands on his knees and leaning over his legs, foreheads almost touching. A small pot of anger and jealousy boiled in the pit of Leo's stomach, churning back in forth in suspense at what the employee would be able to put up against her. "Why don't you come with us for a bit? There's this great motel I know where we could have a bit of fun…" she moved closer, red painted lips now at his ear. "All by ourselves."

As much as Leo wanted nothing more than to step up and push that woman down, to put his hands on the star's shoulders and claim him as his own, he knew he could not. He was already sure that in that man's world, so different and distant from the Baskerville's, Leo didn't even serve a place. How sad is it to know the one your own world orbits around does not even know you exist? A surge of pain washed over his body, calming his senses to a numbed nothing. Leo was nothing to him, not even a figure to fill the background space of a picture, not just a face on the street, not anyone worth a second glance.

"For the last time, I don't want anything to do with any of you," the blonde growled, now glaring at the one practically sitting on his lap. He pushed at her shoulders, forcing her to step down before she lunged right back for a counter attack.

"Why not? It must be boring working here all day…why not come and unwind with me?" She let out a low giggle, dancing her manicured nails up his clothed chest. Slut batted her overly glossed eyelashes, looking him straight in the eye.

"Please leave right now before I personally take you out of here!" he snapped, shoving her off once again with more strength, at least enough to get her off of him. Sure enough, the scantily clad woman stumbled back on the ground only for a few seconds before quickly scurrying right back.

"I could deal with th-,"

"_Don't touch that!" _

Time froze in a millisecond, giving Leo a bit of time to assess what he had just been a witness of. As the girl tried for more access on his lap, she had just dismissed the violin laying there instead. Without a care in the world, she had shoved the wooden piece aside, making the man's blue sapphires go wide in fear and despair just at the sight of the instrument falling.

Leo had never been one for having much speed. However, when it came to his idolized musician, desperate measures would be taken. In not even two seconds, the black haired man had dropped the CD in his possession, shoving himself off the side of the rack with great force. He dashed forward with a speed he didn't know he was even capable of, arm outstretched to attempt to save the delicate instrument from its demise to be reached upon the hard wooden floor. He hadn't even thought twice about his actions, acting only upon mere instinct and simply hoping he could make this work.

Lo and behold, he was under an angel's watch that day, as the violin had fallen ever so gently in the palm of his hands, not a scratch on it. Before even a bit of relief could course its way through his veins, Leo hit the floor, almost giving a yelp of pain but managing to bite his tongue. The entire store was quiet, all eyes on the group of five centered on the commotion.

A stupid idea, a stupid and pointless idea Leo hadn't even thought of. Somehow, his back had made a low arch causing his protruding ribs to collide with the ground first, an unusually weak spot for the bookworm. He let out a quiet groan of pain, not even trying to move from his spot on the floor. The adrenaline from before had completely drained any sense of energy he could try to muster, leaving him defenseless and poor upon the wooden floorboards.

"Ugh! Let's get out of here!" Bitch commanded, the other two nodding as they made their hurried escape from the shop. Arm still out and holding the violin delicately, Leo rolled onto his side and curled up into a small ball around the point where his pain was centered, rubbing small circles in his ribs to try and calm the stinging. Why had he done that? The fall wasn't even four feet, the violin wouldn't have completely broken…would it? Maybe it would have…or there could just be some nasty cracks by the end of the day. Then again, he was pretty sure his ribs were the only cracked things along with his mentality at this point.

"Are you alright?" A familiar, gentle voice asked Leo. A small vibration racketed the ground, the motion of a chair being pulled back followed by a few footsteps. A hand brushed his face, attempting to get him to come to, and working well at it. As Leo opened his eyes, another realization came to his attention; his glasses had fallen off. He hissed a small curse under his breath, the world blurry and seeming to be just a mesh of spontaneous colors in front of his eyes. "Can you get up? That was a pretty hard fall you took there…" the voice cooed quietly, cupping his cheek gently.

Instead of a coherent answer, Leo simply groaned again with a small nod of his head, using one hand to hoist himself up and the other bringing the violin to his chest. He cradled it protectively, sitting up with his legs underneath of him. "I'm alright…" Where were those glasses of his? Free hand moving to the ground, he frantically searched around with his fingers, hoping to feel that cool glass quickly. However, it seemed that angel had moved on from watching over him, letting him fend for himself as he sporadically slapped his hand on the floor to try and locate his glasses. Pesky things…never there when he needed them…

A warm hand—not hot, not cold, just a soothing warmth—overtook his own, fingers curling around it and pulling it back to Leo's lap. He looked up, being able to make out the distinct features of a face in front of him, but not really able to tell who. After all, there were a lot of people with just a nose, mouth and…blue eyes? Indeed, those were blue…right? Leo squinted his own irises, attempting to figure out the one before him. There was hair too, believe it or not…almost like a dulled honey or…yellow painted over dark brown…

The intellect's eyes widened, leaning back as his bangs fell over his face. Laying the violin in his lap, he returned to searching for his spectacles with his hand that wasn't being held captive by another. Thankfully, they were just to his other side, found and retrieved more quickly than he could've hoped for. Wrenching his other hand free from the man's—that was definitely a man's voice, despite being so smooth and…velvety…low and enticing—grasp, using both appendages to pry back the hinges, sliding them effortlessly onto his face. With a sigh of relief, Leo blinked his eyes a few times at the ground to readjust to his heightened eyesight.

But looking up, two gasps were given at the other.

"Y-You're…"

"Glen!" The prince cried in glee, taking Leo's face between his hands and staring at him with the happiest smile Leo had ever seen. His grin grew more sincere, looking like a high school girl meeting her favorite idol for the first time.

"Th-the pianist prodigy from online…I can't believe it!"

* * *

><p><strong>I've always wanted to write semi-fanboy!Elliot before.<strong>

**Here's where it's a bit easier to see the Sekaiichi Hatsukoi twists, no? Besides the fact Elliot is sort of a bit sexist in this…but still. I actually typed this up in one day, surprisingly. I guess this is what an uneventful, gloomy day can do to people, not to mention I've been writing a few other things as well.**


	3. He's a Knight, Not a Prince

**Thanks again to everyone and all of your support. I know I said a few days but...well, school, what are you going to do? **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pandora hearts or any of the characters, all of that nonsense.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>There was nothing he could say. There was nothing to say. How was one really supposed to react to having their secret idol spout out their alias like some delusional fanboy? As unfortunate as it was, Leo couldn't say he had been put into the situation before, nor had he ever even dreamt of it. But wouldn't it have been a nice dream to have slept seeing… Leo would look up with a charming smile, introducing himself in a dashing manner that couldn't help but stun the other. The blonde would fall for him immediately. Yes, literally too, why not, and fall into his arms like a weak damsel in distress. Of course, Leo was a man! He'd pick up the fair man, holding him like a bride, and storm out of the shop. Maybe then he could take him back to his apartment where they could exchange pieces of music—with the taller man still completely fawning over him. And then, right when he least expected it, Leo would kiss him passionately, the action being returned in an ever higher degree. Right then and right there, he would slam the employee onto the floor, climbing on top of him and ravishing every inch of his gorgeous, splendid body writhing beneath h-<p>

And then he'd wake up.

And this wasn't a dream, was it?

"I never thought I'd actually meet Glen in person," the blonde man cooed, scurrying to help the noirette stand from his sitting position on the floor, an attempt that went in vain. "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't recognize you earlier…those glasses sort of gave off the wrong impression at first…"

Leo brought the lenses on his face even closer to his eyes, blinking even more furiously to make sure he was seeing correctly. This man…one who looked as if he had descended right from some Greek myth…knew him? Leo's thoughts, just recently in a rushed jumble ramming into each other, slurred together, slowing to a lethargic stop. Where were his thoughts even supposed to start? Where should he begin, what outrageous note should he proceed with first? He took a loud, large, intake of air, trying to continue with the steady circulation of blood in his body that seemed to have momentarily stopped.

Time for a situation break-down.

Upon seeing the violin slip from the angel-like man's hands, Leo's musician instincts had immediately kicked in, sending him along with a burst of adrenaline. He had dashed forward, rushing out to try and save the delicate, wooden instrument that the blonde had spent so many days praising and appealing as Leo himself worshipped its holder. But there it was, out of his protecting grasp and falling to demise, surely knowing it would cause its wielder a great sadness. The blonde man, from what Leo had picked up on his personality, would probably yell at the women until they cried and fled, screaming at anyone who came near him for the next few moments.

By chance, Leo had barely caught the violin on his fingertips, curling them back to make it fall into his palm. Without any means of catching himself, he had crashed to the floor, swearing he heard a crack over the loud ringing in his ears. The way his back had arched caused his ribs, skin molded perfectly to the bones, to collide first, carrying the entire weight of his body. He probably hadn't broken anything, but it had hurt like hell.

The trio of estrogen marched out of the store, most likely escaping the wrath of the employee they had angered. In actuality, the starlit man was focused only on Leo, immediately jumping up to kneel over him. To the current second, Leo slowly brought his eyelids together to blink, staring in amazement at the male before him. In turn, the man held his face between his hands gently, face close to his with a look of simple wonder and awe.

He sighed, smile growing more sincere as if he was being looked at by a god, running his fingers along the pale man's jaw."I-It really is you..." he whispered lowly with a blush rising to his face and sending shivers down Leo's back. In response, Leo's face was drained of blood, as is he was faced with a ghost."To think that Glen was visiting today and that..." his words trailed off, useless to Leo's dizzy mind.

Leo lifted a hand to hold his forehead, nodding as the other rambled off. What was he going on about? He couldn't really...hear that well... He dipped in and out of consciousness, trying his best to pay attention, trying to stay together. Eyes drooping, the voice speaking to him grew louder, the hands on his face now shaking his shoulders.

"Hey, are you alright? Glen? Hey, Glen! Glen?"

Promptly, the world went black, gravity strengthening and bringing the cross eyed man to the ground.

Leo was surrounded by warmth, a soft environment curling around him. He was in his normal clothes, but still was able to feel a gentle texture over the skin he left showing. Stars danced along Aurora on the backs of his eyes, making him scrunch his face up in distaste. His stomach and chest were heavy, a pain aching all over and flopping about.

A small groan slipped from his lips; it had been a dream after all, then. Fatigue from not eating the height before had filled his sleep with wild fantasies that, while remarkably vivid and wonderful, were nothing but what they were; fantasy. It was time to continue on, proceed with being an admirer from afar and nothing but.

He lifted his arm to drape it over his eyes, only to be interrupted by-...another hand? Confused, he wiggled the fingers on his other hand only to find they were four next to him on his side. Leo had also then noticed the sheets were not his rough, torn ones he had been used to. The room around was much warmer, different from the crisp chill of his old apartment.

The hand on his forehead began to move, rubbing in slow, small circles, fingers curling and uncurling repeatedly.

Leo shuddered, the touch hotter than he would prefer and felt a messy sweat accumulate over his skin. "Are you coming to…?" At the honey lathered voice, Leo opened his eyes, immediately moving to sit up. Another hand was placed on his hip, keeping him bedridden. "Hey, hey, wait, stay down. You already are in a pretty shitty condition, don't make it worse…" As soon as he had noticed his somewhat blurred vision, cold glasses were slid oh-so delicately onto his face, giving Leo a moment to adjust to his environment.

"Where am I?" he asked, disregarding anything he had said. This wasn't his room. These weren't his blankets, this wasn't his bed. The walls, the carpet, the desk, the violins, everything was foreign to him. The only thing he knew was familiar with was sitting on the edge of his not-bed. Leaning over him, face concerned, heaven forbid, was his starlit sacred angel. His eyes were focused only on him, not an offset glance, full of worry and admiration; just for him.

"My house; you collapsed in the middle of Partager une Melodie." He craned his neck around, moving his face closer to Leo's. "I took you back to my home. It isn't everyday a prodigy falls into your arms after rescuing a doomed violin, after all." Eyes wide and mouth opening and closing repeatedly as if he was a fish out of water, Leo understood the situation for the first time that day. He had fallen-fallen!-into him at the store. Yet now…he was here, at his house. The man he had spent so much time longing after…carried him to his home. He was at a temple, the home of a god, the dwelling of beauty incarnate.

It was a rather grand room, in Leo's own opinion. Then again, he had been raised in an orphanage his entire life; what did he know of luxury? The room was open and bountiful in empty floor space, revealing a much darker wooden floor than those of the music emporium's. The walls were a dark navy blue, with ornate, floral damask patterns printed on in a lighter shade, giving quite the regal appearance. The bed he lay in was in the center of the room and then pressed back to the wall where two large windows were on either side, curtains pulled back and allowing the evening, orange glow stream in like liquid reflecting off of the floors.

A white patch of carpet was around the bed, stretching out for maybe a foot around it before marrying the wooden boards. He lay in a burrow of black and light blue blankets, soft as velvet and clean as soap. The bed had a wooden frame, the headboard tall and large, looming out from behind Leo and giving a sense of security beneath it. Two doors were on either end of the room, to the left and right of the bed, the one on Leo's right being closed. Looking up at the ceiling, tiny chandeliers were sprinkled atop the white surface, dimmed down and giving ease to his poor onyx eyes. What caught Leo's attention most, however, was the corner to his near right filled with a violin, a piano, a flute, a harp, and clarinet, all neatly propped up on wired stands he had seen being sold at the store, once.

"So...this bed then?"

"It's mine," he finishes for him, nodding his head."I didn't trust anyone else to tend to you in another room." Leo lowered his head to his chest in embarrassment. He hadn't eaten since breakfast...yesterday morning. He didn't get more than three hours of sleep last night either, staying up and studying for an exam the next day (that he did rather well on, thank you very much). Fatigue must've gotten the best of him and he had passed out right then and there on the glossy wooden floors he had studied for so long. To think this man had the kindness to take care of him...how embarrassing.

"That's awfully nice of you to do," Leo mumbled, looking up at him curiously. The short tempered male seemed pleased by this, smiling proudly. "But utterly stupid as well." The smile fell, making Leo bite his tongue, wishing it to return. Now with his attention, one of the first things he says is to make him lose that artist's smile? What a reality check…

"What do you mean 'stupid'?" the other glared, squinting his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. "I helped you. You should be thankful to me."

"You took a complete stranger into your home." Leo pointed out, a snarky grin rising to his own face to replace the one he had lost. "I could be trying to kill you. I could arrest you for kidnapping. I know where you live now, I could stalk you or rob your house…" he grew silent, thinking over his words. He already was a stalker though, wasn't he? Now that he knew where he lived—or at least, he would when he left—that would only make him more of a stalker, wouldn't it? A sigh of realization covered the room, making the black haired boy even more depressed. He didn't want to be a stalker…it wasn't anything he could choose. All he wanted was to live day by day, able to see that shining star in the music store. Was such a simple pleasure really so wrong?

"You're Glen," the violinist noted after a small silence, staring at Leo quite seriously. Raising his eyebrow, Leo pushed his hand off of his forehead and sat up, feeling dizzy while doing so.

"Define 'Glen'."

Now the other gave a quizzical look, cocking his head slightly to the side. Leo found the small action rather interesting, not having seen the curious side of him before, a side that wasn't shown in the store. "The pianist who composes and covers songs perfectly and uploads them onto the internet, that's who Glen is."

Leo glanced over himself, noticing his sweatshirt had been taken off and set to the side on a desk to his left, resting over the chair accompanying it. His ribs protruded through his T-shirt beyond belief, causing a flustered look to come over his face, bringing the blankets to his chest to try and hide his evidence of anorexia in response.

"Then I suppose I am, at some points, Glen," Leo began, eyes shifting about the room. He must be rich…he really was a prince, wasn't he? "But right now, I'm Leo; not Glen."

"Leo?" the blonde echoed, only being answered with a curt nod beneath the blankets. He blinked once, twice, slowly, holding his chin while staring at the boy in deep thought.

"Leo Baskerville, age 22, blood type AB, born on December 26th," he rattled off, propping himself up on his elbows in a sit-laying position.

"You're hungry, aren't you?" he interrupted, standing to leave. Leo threw his legs over the bedside to follow, causing a disapproving stare to be directed his way. He smiled a cocky grin, hands still protecting his shallow ribcage.

"I am. But that can wait; what's your name?" It was alright to be rude in this situation, he figured. At this point, there wasn't that much for him to lose, already knowing he was a stalker. He had heard the man's name before, of course, but it had always meant nothing t ohim. Only when it fell from his lips…when he said it himself would he accept it.

"Elliot Nightray," he answered quietly, watching as Leo laid back down with a satisfied look gracing his face.

"I'm famished. I've yet to eat all of today and yesterday," Elliot's eyes widened, nodding and simply rushing from the room in a hurried flash.

Elliot.

Leo brought the blankets to his nose, inhaling the name he had finally learned as if he had been kept from breathing his entire life. Elliot. It suited him…such a refined, dignified name for such a handsome man. _Elliot_. It sounded like the name of a knight, a truly brave and strong man. Leo then finally knew that what he had yearned for so long, the angelic musician who always sat in his chair next to the desk, polishing and playing instruments, was born as Elliot Nightray.

He was no longer a prince anymore; a name that noble was fit for a knight.

_Elliot._

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><p><strong>This may not be the best chapter, as it was still in sort of beta stage when I posted it first on tumblr, but I read it through a few times and deemed it worthy. The next chapter shall be where the actual "plot" comes in, so hang on for a bit.<strong>

**Reviews tend to add extra pretties into chapters, so a few of them would be appreciated as always.**


	4. All Stars Lose their Shine

Leo had tossed and turned in the bed he laid in for what seemed like hours after the occurrence, smiling brightly. Elliot! Elliot Nightray! How majestic! It was amazing to him how easily he had said it, taking his name for granted. Oh, but what a name it was! He had never heard anything like it, and for him to say it himself in that smooth, low voice of his…no one could have said it and given the same effect. Could Leo himself say it similarly? Or say it at all? His voice sounded odd to his own ears, almost afraid to disgrace the name. But maybe...he could properly thank him and add his name at the end for formality?

"Th..." Leo whispered, checking quickly if anyone was in the room. Practice would be needed for such an occasion, after all. People rehearsed prayers constantly; it was just similar to that."...thank you, E-" Not even the entire 'eh' sound came out correctly, caught in his throat. He knitted his brows together in concentration, parting his lips to try again. "E...Elli...li...li...ot." he blushed, pondering his stutters. He had said it properly…hadn't he?

"...Elliot." he grinned once again, touching his lips that had spoken the most sacred word. A weight was lifted from his shoulders, not knowing he would no longer have to refer to the blonde man as just "knight" or "angel" or any of the cheesy pet names he had become accustomed to coming up with. Thinking over the name he had spoken, Leo could've laid there for eternity, content with just the mere fact he had been able to muster up the courage to speak it. Only he would be able to take pride in this, and he was probably also the only one who could compliment himself for saying a name he had probably said somewhere else under different circumstances.

Yet, as he waited, singing the name under his breath, he realized that Elliot had yet to return.

He sat up right away, looking around the room as if any piece of the extravagant furnishings would tell him where the taller male was. How long had it even been since he left? Maybe...half an hour? Forty-five? Or…how long had it been since he had been taken from the store? The onyx eyed man looked to a clock on the wall across from him, adjusting his glasses to see the numbers more clearly. Violet eyes going wide, he held back a gasp.

Eight fifty in the evening.

He had work to attend to today.

Beginning to panic, Leo stood, holding onto the bedposts for support in his still weak state. There wasn't anytime for this lovey-dovey nonsense; he would be fired if he didn't show up on time today. Sure, it was a simple library job, not the best pay, but this wasn't the first time he had shown up late due to star gazing at that corner store.

He stumbled across the room, clutching his aching stomach and snatching his sweatshirt from the back of a chair. Not caring if anyone paid him any mind, he hurried from the room, practically shielding his ribs with the clothing in his hands. His glasses were tilted on his face, limiting his vision as he ran through the winding halls with whatever speed he could manage on his thin legs. _Got to leave_, a voice rang in his head_, I can't stay here any longer_. Leo wore no shoes, not having seen them laid out anywhere and didn't really care much either way, willing to run barefoot to his work.

A long hallway stretching farther than the others finally met his eyes as he turned a corner, not a single soul in sight. A row of shoes were lined up along the far back wall, Leo's own placed rather lazily at the end of the line bordering another small door. Although he was relieved to see he would not have to murder his feet, where was the exit? Doors lined the halls, all leading to separate, irrelevant rooms he had no used for. Most would think there would be some way to leave in this mess of hallways and entrances…

It was such a large house, he blindly noted. He wouldn't necessarily call it a mansion, but it wasn't your standard living area, either. How many rooms and halls could one home hold? How big a family did they have to support? And how well they seemed to support… The furnishings he had seen up till now had all been rather expensive looking and some of which he would have expected to be in a museum. Now that he thought about it…maybe it was a mansion. The floors were wooden, like most things Leo had seen that day, and the walls were a light creamed color with darker patterns put into them. Small tables with flowers in vases on them filled the corners of each room and hall, portraits and framed pictures lining the walls. Had he time to look, Leo would have wandered about for hours, mesmerized by the wonderful décor he had such a taste for.

Ah…but he never ate anything, after all, did he? It was easy to feel the effects of which taking control over his body once more, the hall spinning around like a fun house and his form growing heavy. This was the second time today, to think…of course, it was to be expected; one should only rest after passing out once that day. Leo stopped running and slowed to a lethargic walking pace, leaning on the wall for support. He should have asked for food, or a glass of water, at least…

He began panting, feeling the cons of running for so long with so little on his stomach beginning to take its toll on him. Leo slid along the wall to the floor, relying on it to hold him in a somewhat sitting position, legs folded beneath him. His hands, sweaty and jittery, tore at the sweatshirt in his grasp furiously for a sense of control over his body, tilting his head to rest it against the cool wallpaper beside him. Soon, he had completely flopped over, relying solely on said wall to keep him from laying down.

Had he been at home, this would be the turning point when he decided to prepare a small fifteen cent ramen pack, or maybe a stack of stale crackers with water to keep himself stable until his next breaking point. He might lay down for a few minutes, sit in bed and review notes from school in his head, or watch swirling music notes fly by behind his eyelids. After a bit of rest, he would be back up and running, all until the next few days when he knew he would fall again. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself when he was in his own habitat. But he wasn't at home, was he?

"Oh, my God!" A shrill female voice screamed, making Leo jump in surprise. He turned his head to face the direction of the voice, seeing a woman standing in the middle of the hall staring at him with her hands clamped over his mouth. She kept eye contact with him for just a moment, eyes wide almost as if in fear before it appeared realization hit her. She pivoted foot, back facing Leo as she cupped her hands around her mouth. "E-Elly!" The black haired woman ran off as fast as she had arrived, yelling a few more sentences that Leo was unable to catch besides the calling for his caretaker. He was left to ponder why she had even walked by only to hurry off, finding the behavior just the slightest bit irregular. Then again, he was a stranger looking rather suspicious lurking about what he assumed to be her household… Stupid, useless women…but she resembled Elliot, in some small manner, so there wasn't much Leo could really say in her faults.

He gathered his sweatshirt close to his chest, holding on to stay grounded to the earth and to not pass out once again. What would he do now? Wait until he could stand by himself to flee? But what was the chance another member of the house would stumble across him? It had seemed the woman from before had plans of her own regarding Leo to abide by… Maybe Elliot would run to his rescue, catch him as he fell, and cradle him delicately, leaning down until their faces were inches apart to k-

"G-Glen?" Speak of angels and hear their wings. Leo once again glanced over his shoulder at the knight dashing towards him; he was already on the ground, where had he been when he was standing and in the perfect stance for falling and being caught? You can't catch someone if they've already fallen! "W-why…you couldn't have waited until I was finished?"

Leo crawled along the wall to try and stand, disregarding the man kneeling beside him. "Don't make such a fuss…and my name is Leo." He readjusted the glasses on his face, fixing them up onto the bridge of his nose to get a better view of the man before him. "I…have to go to work now; thank you for your ever so kind hospitality." He rolled his eyes while speaking as if to mock him, almost upright on his own two feet. Just a bit more…

"You can't call in sick today? You look awful! You can barely walk, much less stand, even…" Elliot looked him over, eyes holding a fair amount of concern once seeing his frail form. But as his pupils travelled across his protruding ribs, his gaze became sharper, having obviously made a decision. "Stay here until you're better."

"I'll be fired if I take another day off," the bespectacled man hissed, shaking as he stood with his back slumped against the wall. "This isn't anything significant; I'm not sick, and I've been through worse…" Elliot stood as well, eyes widening as he made a move to wrap an arm around Leo's shaking shoulders, straightening him up. Leo had accepted this one means of help reluctantly, though ready to make an escape at any moment.

"You're insane. You're as thing as a twig, yet you're refusing free food…and trying to go to work in your condition?" He shook his head, frowning with a stern expression. It had reminded Leo of a mother disciplining her child, oddly enough, and the thought became the tiniest bit humorous after a moment. "I won't allow it. You'll stay here and I'll call in for you; where do you work? If they don't accept it…" He seemed to think over the possibility of being turned down, shaking his head before finishing his sentence. "They will."

Now Leo raised his eyebrows, giving him an incredulous look. Was he…serious? Never before had Leo met someone so…_arrogant_! "You're trying to seem nice, aren't you?" The noirette muttered, quiet at first and then lowering his head while shaking violently. His hands clenched into fists, vibrating at his sides and nails digging deep into the over shirt they held. "Are you taking pity on me? Trying to show how superior you are by taking care of me?"

"When did I ever say that?" Elliot shouted, a flinch rupturing Leo's features from the harsh tone. "And why shouldn't I help you, you're an absolute mess!" He shook him lightly, growling at the insults thrown at him so carelessly. Who was he even kidding anymore? "I can't believe you'd belittle my assistance like this…"

"Who's belittling who!" Leo challenged his tone, the sound just barely echoing off the desolate hallway walls. "You're trying to show how mighty you are to a poor man who barely makes it day by day! Does this make you proud of yourself? Are you going to brag to your little rich friends about your ever-growing generosity? You like this sort of sick pleasure?" He was now yelling as fiercely as he could, swaying back and forth while trying to fight the blonde's hands off of him.

As he finished, however, his head began to feel light, a quiet ringing in his ears. He shouldn't have put all his effort into going off on such a rant…he didn't even have to have a beyond empty stomach for a good dose of yelling to tire him out. Now with the two symptoms combined, he lost his sense of direction and state of mind, barely hanging on to the conversation. He could hear Elliot gritting his teeth, the grip on his shoulders becoming firmer as he faced the other.

"I respect you," he growled, his tone contradicting the words he spoke. "I believe your music is wonderful, gorgeous, but you know what?" He paused, looking off to the side to try and find just the right way to phrase his thoughts. "You're an asshole. I've realized the one I love seeing is Glen; not this Leo."

His world crashed, right then and there, as Leo was brought back down to earth. Here he was, flat out insulting and criticizing his star, his knight, his angel! He should be thanking him, continuing with his quiet worshipping , but… Leo let his head fall, gaze downcast; no longer was he his angel. Elliot was a tainted, normal human being, just like the rest. He had finally said Leo's name, only to have been insulting and putting him down. What an ironic moment…how bittersweet to have that voice he found with a greater melody than symphonies to finally have said his name…

The Baskerville spoke no more, allowing himself to be carried back to the other's room, laying in his bed. It turned out, Elliot had been busy reprimanding their chef—it was a mansion—before taking off cooking all on his own, having to restart the dish multiple times before he had deemed it worthy of serving to Leo. But he couldn't have cared if he was served charred bits of residue of meat on the side of a grill, could easily have eaten stale bread; it would have all tasted the same, anyways. He was in no state to conduct any sense of taste, only able to accept the food given to him without a word being spoke, not a fight worth fighting any longer.

As he fell asleep under satin sheets and cotton covers, Leo could only think to himself before whispering one word. He directed it at a few things, and as cliché as it was, it had been the only thing he could possibly think of. It was one simple bidding that every part of his consciousness finally agreed on, no pros, no cons to speaking at all. Ever so quietly, he spoke to his happiness, his hope, his love, and most importantly, his shining star.

"Goodbye."

**My goodness was this late! I know I had promised this maybe a week or so ago? So sorry I couldn't get it up, but you know, school, what are you going to do? I've already got the next few chapters written on paper, and, for real this time, will get them up as fast as possible along with my new fanfic I'm also writing (which I'd love if you'd check out as well).**

**Please review? Any feedback is greatly appreciated!**


	5. Reminiscing

**So yeah I'm not dead.**

**Remember me? Hopefully.**

* * *

><p>His lungs were rarely filled to their full capacity.<p>

Breathing was mechanical, a merely instinctual process that was only needed for living with no second thought about it. He gave the cycle of air no usual mind, never caring to mention it, never caring to so much as acknowledge it at times. After all, no one describes the air they breathe in, do they? That was only something found in books, wasn't it? Things like that didn't happen in real life, he knew it. Describing vividly the scenery around them, some things people would be unable to notice in reality—none of that happened. Breathing was simply a word and a reflexive action, nothing more, and nothing less.

"Break," the young man began with a low voice, coming out as more of a threatening growl than a name. The male in question was only able to hum in response, raising his brows to indicate he had indeed heard the one addressing him while refusing to so much as look at him. He tapped his foot in frustration at the older man, having expected no manners from him, though still finding his behavior just as impudent. "You shouldn't be on the store's computer while you're at work; you should be _working_."

"Oh, hush now, little Elliot," the half-blind man cooed back at him, lifting a hand to wave him off in dismissal. "I was merely rechecking the source of music a _customer_ had _asked_ me about and it just so _happens_ the only suitable rendition was on the internet." He craned his neck back, turned his head to the blonde man with a grin laced over his face. "Shouldn't you be concentrating on your own work?"

Elliot raised his arm to gesture to the violin in his grasp, holding its neck with a white rag to keep from dirtying it with even the smallest fingerprint. "I'm cleaning today, so you have no need to worry about what I'm doing." He had turned his head away in disinterest for a moment, showing his irritation caused by the older man before a light, gentle melody greeted his ears to interrupt his session of scowling. Elliot remained still, hands clenching around the instrument in his grasp as the melody he assumed Break was listening to continued to play in the background. Unlike most stores, the small shop he worked in refused to play any sort of radio station or soundtracks above the setting, leaving enough empty sound for the customers to enjoy whatever music they themselves were listening to. By this, the building was kept at a usually consistent quiet tone, allowing any and all sound to be heard from a ways away.

But even if there had been much noise in the first place, Elliot was positive he would have been able to hear that quiet tune either way.

"Oh, now I see why I couldn't find it anywhere…" The albino murmured to himself, drawing out the last syllable in a low hum as he teetered back and forth on the tall stool. A few of the current inhabitants of the store seemed to pause their actions for just a moment to glance over at the counter, some giving a knowing smile, while others only appeared content with the melody and returned to their previous work. Elliot glanced over their faces quickly, as if to see just how many people had already known of the piece while wondering how he possibly could have not heard it before. A slight buzz behind the piano playing helped him acknowledge that it was most likely a home recording, though it sounded as if it could have been on stage performing for hundreds—thousands.

"Let me see that…" he spoke quietly as his feet nearly tripped over each other as they stumbled over to the elder man, for once not bothering with how close they were once he had bent over his shoulder to observe the video on the screen. As he did this, Break barely turned his face to him, now watching Elliot's reaction more intently than the song itself being played, as observing his bewildered face was much more entertaining than fingers flittering over a plain keyboard.

Elliot left behind whatever walls he had up, then, to possibly keep him from embarrassing himself or just to keep other people from approaching him. His eyes were wide in fascination, lower lip hanging out with his mouth slightly open, shoulders taken from their usual stiff position and now relaxed. On the monitor, a man was seated at an electric keyboard, wearing rather ratty, worn-down clothes with shaggy, black rats' nests of hair curling up on his back. The man was an unearthly shade of white, pale as the bone beneath his skin, as if he had not even been blessed with blood once in his life. His appearance did not fit his level of playing even remotely, which only added to the wonder of it. It was obvious he was not of the best social class, and he had not even used those pianist talents to make a better living for himself? Or maybe he had, maybe this was an old video and he had moved on by now… famous, well known, aspiring.

Yet Elliot knew he would have heard of him by now if he was. What with hearing constant tales of the smallest to the most popular musicians from work alone, it surprised him he had not even been aware of this player specifically. A good few of the customer's in the store right then appeared to have already been well informed of him, some humming the tune with it, or just having that nostalgic expression.

The music ended soon enough, much to his dismay, and the performer stood, turning his head to offer a small smile to the camera. Just as Elliot had expected, his bangs were just as long and uneven, covering most of his eyes. But, to make up for the disappointment gained upon the song's ending, he lifted those nimble fingers of his to brush the hair aside. The eyes then revealed were not what he had expected, though Elliot knew he should not make any presumptions about the worn man who could play so deftly. What he had assumed would be two plain, maybe just slightly murky eyes—perhaps brown?—were instead sharp and piercing, almost like that of a doll's. Similar to doll eyes as well, they seemed just slightly flawed, glossed over and a bit cloudy, to which Elliot almost took the liberty of guessing that he couldn't see too well. Of course, he let this idea also fall flat, quickly realizing that if he could not see, he would not be playing the piano so skillfully in the first place.

"…who is he?" Elliot finally decided to question, not averting his eyes from the screen even when speaking to the man he was hunched over. He did come back to his senses just slightly, however, and managed to stand straight behind the albino as to not invade his personal space further.

Break merely shrugged, speaking casually as if he were unimpressed, "Looks like just another one of those unpublished musicians from the internet." His hand curled over the mouse, scrolling down to read a few of the comments listed for any information regarding Elliot's current curiosity. "I'm not surprised, with an appearance like that," Elliot bit back his tongue, "that he wouldn't have much to his name, don't you think? What with how today's world works…"

"I didn't ask for your commentary, Break; what's his _name_?" He had thought it would be common sense to be given a name before all else.

Once again, the older man directed his attention elsewhere, lifting his head as another customer entered the homely shop. With a small, overly warm welcome, he gave a small wave flaunted right in front of Elliot's face, a double-sided gesture that also warned the youth to leave. The calm air to Elliot was then disturbed, quickly broken as his customary scowl returned to its rightful place on his person. Standing completely straight with his arms crossed, he gave a small "hmph" and turned away, grip on the violin in his possession tightening ever so slightly as he marched off and back to work. Rude of that man to brush him off like that… expected, but rude nonetheless.

He ceased questioning the man for the day, and kept from bringing it up for three weeks.

* * *

><p>Exactly three weeks from his first encounter with the suspiciously adorned musician, Elliot found himself once again in his usual playing room, open and vast. He had been there for a good while already, and the sunlight reflecting off the waxed floors was already beginning to shine directly into his eyes once again. He had originally pulled the curtains slightly towards the middle to block out what he could of the sun, not taking into consideration how long he would be at work and at what time the sun's light would seep through yet again. Nevertheless, he made no move to close the curtains completely, always having subconsciously enjoyed the comfort given in such a warm, natural light saving witness to his playing.<p>

The piano he worked furiously yet gently at seemed just as—if not more—polished than the floor, white panels easily reflecting a perfect mirror image of himself back at him. Elliot paid no attention to the reflection, though, already lacking in the concentration necessary to fully complete the given composition he had been struggling over for the past few hours. It was supposed to have been such a simple piece… and yet here he was, his fourth hour without standing or moving from his place at the large instrument, fingertips red from their persistent orders to continue playing. Like most of the scenery in the large room, his expression had hardly faltered through the time lapsed, having only the corners of his mouth pulled slightly down in a determined grimace.

"Don't you think it's time to give up?" Elliot's eyes narrowed at the footsteps he had not originally heard growing closer to him. "Come on, Elliot, it's nearly time for dinner." Vanessa moved to stand behind her brother, smiling at the childish insistence that remained in his fingers as they pounded away at the keyboard. She gently clasped her hands over his shoulders, lightly gliding them back and forth to try and ease the stiffness accumulated. "Let's go, Elliot, you've been playing for hours-"

"I don't get it, Vanessa," Elliot interjected, hands trailing off to a quiet ending only halfway through. Though these words would be usually heard from him with contempt and irritation, the only emotion his elder sister could find was pure curiosity and… perhaps awe. "He was able to play it so smoothly, and I can't make it through once. Do you think that means I'm just not… good enough yet?" He had the habit of forgetting he was talking to somebody when speaking, occasionally. Elliot was simply the type to have to voice his thoughts and concerns aloud to fully understand them, and of course, no other than Vanessa tried to understand him as well.

She leaned down, nestling her face next to his with her chin on his shoulder. "Well, it's a good thing it isn't your profession then, right?" It was a small attempt to not cheer him up, but to only get him away from that one piece for a while. Encounters like this were far from uncommon, and no matter how much she or their brothers tried, they all knew trying to extract Elliot from any piece of music was futile. "You don't have to worry about it being just perfect, you know."

Elliot brought his brows together as she spoke, nose scrunching up in distaste for her words. Upon multiple, multiple occasions had he been given this same talk of how he should not be one to take music so seriously into his life… this might be the fourth one this week already. "That doesn't mean I still can't _try,_ Vanessa." He spoke a bit more loudly this time, hunching back over the keys a little more as to give a small hint for his sister to detach herself from his back. Doing so with a pitiful frown, Vanessa took a step to the side to continue watching his face for any sign of letting up. "If there's any way he can do it then… so can I…" the blonde mumbled more quietly beneath his breath, as if he had not intended to say so before.

"_He,_ who, Elliot?" The teenager in question turned his head just slightly to catch a glimpse of the puzzled expression on his sister's face before returning his eyes to the music score laid before him, just as they had been the past few hours. If there was any way such a man like that, such a man that wore those types of ratty clothes and lived in that room, had the lack of decency to so much as try and present himself nicely before a camera… if he could do such playing on a piano, there was no reason Elliot shouldn't. He, Elliot Nightray, son of one of the wealthiest—maybe not _the_ wealthiest, but it sure sounded nice saying it like that. Plus, no one would really care to look it up for facts—men in all of Pandora…

It was a repulsing thought.

"Nothing but a sewer rat who just so happens to have wriggled his way into some kind of miracle."

* * *

><p>Despite being utterly disgusted by him, Elliot could not help but to be mesmerized when he once again stumbled upon the man's videos online.<p>

Apparently, he had a _plethora_ of "performances" similar to the one he had seen a while back, all of which being that of a level much higher than Elliot's. It would appear that it hadn't been a one time thing, the lazy appearance and whatnot, as in each concert he was seen dressed swimmingly in what Elliot would consider to be nothing but rags. The hair remained in his eyes—how could he see past to the keys?—and his skin pale as ever, wrists curved, back straightened, necked tilted in nearly the exact same position as it was the video previous to it.

As it was, someone had conveniently posted MP3 files on each of his videos, whether or not it was the same man playing who converted the music to this form unknown, but useful, nonetheless. It was then that Elliot picked up the iPod he hadn't used in ages—he had no use for such things, headphones were pesky and hurt his ears—and downloaded each and every one of them to take with him wherever he went. His co-workers had learned to tap his shoulder when his assistance was required at the store, taking the presumption he would be listening to the single-instrument melodies and being unable to hear them. His family was not as adaptable, though, and became increasingly agitated by his lack of attention and focus when being spoken to. Not that it meant he was making any effort to fix it; of course he wasn't.

The musician had clans of fans on the internet already. Small groups had already been vaguely created in his "honor," though would really only show themselves in conversation once he posted a new song. He composed each piece himself, Elliot had come to learn, which in itself made listening to them all the more remarkable. It was when these videos were uploaded that the clans would begin speaking more outwardly on obvious public sites—not that they had anything to hide—in active conversation as to the mood of the piece, the overall emotion given, the improvement from his previous songs, what may be lacking—always very little in this subject—and what came out more. Elliot reserved himself from these quiet yet eager groups, designating himself as a mere, single devoted fan on his own.

He would occasionally read up on some of the clubs' previous logs, adding onto them in his head, though mostly only scourging them for more information about the man being presented. However, it would appear that not too many people if any at all knew anything more about him than Elliot himself did, disappointing him greatly. His mind had subconsciously taken the suspicious character and enlarged his mystery in his head, somehow morphing him into the most mystifying and intriguing human being alive.

The piano he worked at was continuously filled with sound, given hours and hours each day of endless playing. Though he was not the one to compose them, Elliot had written each piece onto paper himself—what other way was there to get a hold of the music the internet idol performed? The Nightray was at _least_ of enough ear level to be able to write down what he heard, yet it would take a while to do so. Even then it was not guaranteed that he would be capable of playing the piece even similarly to how the original composer did… The times he was able to make it through without blunder, however, it was clear to tell he was obviously lacking in something or another.

"You still insist on this nonsense?"

Elliot hit the keys more quickly in response.

"This will take you nowhere, you know."

The increased volume from his iPod hurt his ears.

"You need to concentrate on something more useful with yourself."

His finger sharply curved to continue scrolling the forum.

"I don't think you understand the opportunities I've given you, Elliot. Now you are only rejecting them repeatedly, and for something so worthless… when will you come to your senses?"

The boy ignored his father's speech yet again and cut it short by closing the main door to block it, eyes fixated on the smart phone in his hand. Today was an important day, after all, and he wouldn't be risking much by not paying attention to the lawn he walked across that he knew by heart. His eyes squinted to see the dim screen and bolded letters, looking for that one phrase he knew so well by now. It was a Friday, the designated day where all fans of a certain pianist crawled onto the internet to catch hint of the leak that he would always give on this day, informing them of his status and when he might post a new video.

Trotting down the stairs, a new post was finally up, and judging by the length of it from a quick glance, held just what he had been waiting for. Elliot's eyes brightened just slightly at this, slowing his pace to a lethargic walk to concentrate on the small text. He had been preparing for a new song for quite a while now, as it had been a good two months since his last composition. Yes, he had the paper laid out and everything, piano prepped every day for the next piece he knew was to come at any given moment… and he had a feeling, just this instinctive feeling that today…with that large of a wall of text, well, there was _bound_ to be something.

Elliot's feet stopped moving as his eyes scanned over the title, breath hitching. They read over it again—it was merely a fluke, a trick of the light—and a few times more after that. The words never changed, never faltered, never moved one bit. They were staring right back at him, taunting him, waiting, watching for some sort of reaction from his bewildered face caught in what he assumed to be shock on his features. There was simply no way, not a single explanation to why this could even be possible.

"_Resignation Confirmed"_

He could not help but to wonder if somebody had posted in the wrong forum, had made a mistake in wording. Perhaps they were speaking of a different musician, another who was commonly discussed on that website… but in the end, he knew his eyes weren't finding anything that wasn't already laid out in front of him. The pseudonym he knew by heart was clearly directed to the entire post, as were the many that soon filled after it. That name he had looked up to all this while. That name he had strived to compare to, worked after to come to equal terms with. The name of that keyboard that was clearly years and years old, unprofessional and dirtied, the signature of those nearly frightening eyes that were only shown for mere moments, the title given to those unkempt clothes that hung loosely from the signed pale body that was the force behind the entire scene—it all remained.

Elliot tucked his phone back into his pocket, eyes fixated in front of him unwaveringly as his legs carried on. One solid word remained in his mind, never elaborated or dwelled over, not even questioned or lectured as to why it was even there. That word simply sat in the middle of his thoughts, keeping simple and still.

_Glen._

* * *

><p><strong>So now that the rest of this fic is literally written down in a notebook, let's hope I can actually update this more often. Hope.<br>**


	6. Important Note!

**I so apologize for the lack of update in so long! I had honestly wanted to keep this fic somewhat consistent, but it doesn't seem that plan went too well. **

**For now, I'm putting this on Semi-Hiatus. I do plan to finish it, eventually, as I do have all of it already written down, though it's only a very rough draft. I've made a spot for this fic alongside a large number of my others I have to finish soon.**

**This will also be on AO3 very soon. I'll be republishing it there, as well as the majority of my fics from now on. I'll continue posting things here for the time being, as I'm still setting things up, and I'll include a link when that time comes.**

**Either way, thank you for supporting me until now! I will finish this eventually, thank you all so much! I'd never expected even the small number of feedback that I did for such a silly little thing.**

**I'll set a goal to have an **_**update within the month**_**.**


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